


vitriol

by jetame



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cousin Incest, Dark!Jon at times, F/M, Implied Past Incest, Pissed the fuck off! Sansa, established r + l equals j
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:43:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetame/pseuds/jetame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"did the little voice in your head tell you that?" alayne, she thinks, her name is alayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vitriol

She wakes late, she world still in a blur of exhaustion. Stumbling from her bedroom, she finds herself before the mirror, yesterday's makeup still smudged below her lashes, and she frowns. Of course she frowns. She frowns because downstairs she can hear Jon, growling out orders at the dinning room table, with his new boss voice, angry and coated in cold metal, with venom dripping from imaginary fangs. It sends hot flares to her finger tips, anger rising in her chest. 

_"San, if we win this, you can head the North. I don't want it, I don't deserve it. I wouldn't take it."_

_"If you do, if you did, all I ask is that you recognize me, I've lived as a protected child in everyone's eyes far too long." He had smiled down at her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. It was all the reassurance she needed._

Pulling her loose t-shirt over her head, she turns the shower nob until it's hot enough that she's sure her skin might burn off.

 ~~_Perfect,_ ~~ She thinks, letting the heat wake every inch of her body, letting the anger slip out into the stream, swirling down the drain.

If Jon will be the boss, she'll be the vixen. It was the part she was destined to play anyways. 

* * *

 

Petyr Baelish comes to her door, practically purring. He catches her at a rare moment, standing alone in the living room, clad in only a tank top, denim shorts and one of Robb's old flannels, that still smelled of his cologne. The one her mother could hardly stand, so Robb had covered the entire house in it.

"Still holding onto old habits, I see?" He welcomes himself in, stepping around her, shell shocked in the doorway. "I know you were particularly fond of your brother. Such a shame."

"I don't known what you're implying, Petyr, but I would appreciate if you wouldn't come into my home and suggest anything about me, if you would." _~~He knows, of course he knows~~. _ She scolds herself for thinking she could hide it.

"My apologies."

"Why are you here?"  


"Why are we all, my dear? I've questioned it myse-" She rolls her eyes. ~~_Old tricks. Don't get confused or distracted, look for the truth._~~

"No, why the hell are you standing in my living room on a Saturday evening. Don't you have lives to ruin?" He snorts, turning away to look out the picture window.

"Sansa, as quick-witted as ever. Good." She can hear Jon's car, pulling in the driveway. "I'll make this quick. Three months ago. You were there, you saw my face. You must know how dissappointed in you I am. Did that little voice in your head tell you that?" _Alayne_ , she thinks, _her name is alayne._ "I put that there, sweetling, you know I did. You need control of this family. You lost your chance then, but I'll tell you this." He inches closer, until his lips are practically on her collarbones.

"Petyr-"

"You have to control Jon. You're a beautiful young woman, you're smart, quick on your feet. Should be fairly easy." She knows exactly what he implies, and it turns her stomach into a knot.

As if on cue, the door swings open, a set of keys clattering onto the counter. She pushes him back before Jon comes into her line of view.

"SANSA-" Jon stops yelling when he spots her standing there. "Oh. Mr. Baelish. Can I ask why you're in our home?" He eyes his cousin carefully. _Oh god, I can't do this again._

* * *

"Stop seeing him. I demand that. And I don't demand much of you, Sansa!" Jon clutches onto her arm tightly, as if to keep her from running away. ~~_You're a coward, he's right to do this._~~

"Jon, please-"

"Fuck please, stop." He rubs his free hand over his face, groaning with anger.

"I'm not seeing him!"

"Oh, bullshit! Why is he in our home 24/7, inches away from you, only when you think I'm not here." She stays silent, letting Jon brood. "Promise me!"

She grits her teeth. "No. I'm not promising you something based on a false accusation." He grabs her other arm, pushing her against the counter in a blur. She gasps out, fighting his grasp.

"Sansa, please god. Never see that spindly old man ever again. I swear to god, if I catch you with him ever again, I'll..." 

"What? What can you possibly take from me that someone else already hasn't?" He knows the implications. She's suffered, and she'll use it against him until she can't anymore.

"Don't talk like that." His grip loosens, and it's her turn to shout. Alayne is gone, it's just Sansa. Sansa and raw emotion and anger and terror towards this shell of Jon.

"I'll talk about any fucking thing I want! And you can't come in here and shake me around and act like I'm some doll you can control and play with when you need her! Jon, I got us here! I got us this house, I got us these jobs, I got us back on our feet! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you-" It's becoming a chant, and somewhere along the line her eyes start to well up with tears and Jon's face hardens into his mob face. His hand wraps around her chin and she swears he's gonna hit her, so she shuts her eyes.

But instead, his lips collide with hers, heavy and demanding, both a silencing order and a desperate want. She sucks in breath against his tongue, begging to swallow his air. She's kissed before, hell, she's kissed him before, but it had all been very polite, skirting around each other for days afterwards. This was different. She found herself on his arm, being hoisted onto the dinning room table to her left. 

"Fuck." He gasped out, looking down at her with dark eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled his head back down, pressing his lips into her neck. 

"Don't talk." It was her turn to demand from him. "Clothes."

She ripped at the buttons on his suit, getting frustrated with them. _This isn't like one of Robb's suits, his are more_ , she thought, _oh. Robb_

Her eyes shot open, wide with the realization that she was about to be fucked by her cousin atop the mob meeting table, in her childhood home. It was filthy and horrid but it made her pupils change and heat pool. Conflicted, her thoughts were dispelled when Jon succeeded in removing her flannel, shorts and top, as well as his own suit. She sighed one last time and reached back up to kiss him again.

It was a sin, but her God left her with her family.

* * *

 

She found herself watching Jon stumble away, one hand over her mouth in disbelief, the other clutching Robb's shirt to her bare chest. The look in Jon's eyes when he finished had been his "mob" look, like he could swallow her whole and spit her back out with no remorse.

She wondered what she had done to them.


End file.
